


Demons

by GreyGullHaven



Series: Haven Snippets [1]
Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Breakup, Drinking, Hurt, M/M, Regrets, implied duke and nathan, no happy ending, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyGullHaven/pseuds/GreyGullHaven
Summary: Short little thing focused on Duke and how he deals with realizing he still cant escape the  Crocker name or the Crocker curse.Be warned- angst and moodiness abound. And there is no happy ending here.
Relationships: Duke Crocker/Nathan Wuornos
Series: Haven Snippets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082435
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Demons- a Duke Crocker One-Shot Story by GreyGullHaven


	2. Demons

Duke sat at the familiar worn table. The rough wood and drink-stained planks one of the most familiar things on the entire boat.

Empty bottles and cans cluttered the table. Spilling onto the floor. Adding to the clamoring in his pounding head.

Countless nights he had sat there, washing away his pain, his regret, his anger, and his fear. Countless nights he had sat alone lost in the numbing mix of alcohol and memories.

Always alone.

Until he had waltzed in and changed everything. 

Duke never really figured out when that moment was. How it happened, or even why it had happened. They had never been that close. They had never had all that much in common.

More enemies than friends they had been most of their lives- yet for some reason they both seemed drawn to each other. Once that first step was taken, they both just seemed to have fallen, not giving a damn where it was that they landed.

And where Duke had landed was right in the middle of another mistake.

Another dead end.

Another regret.

Another heartache.

Another memory he was desperately trying to run away from.

He had been a fool to think it would have ever worked, that it would have ended differently, that there was ever any real hope of it being different this time around. And now he was paying the price for being so foolish. Now he was facing the demons yet again, and this time he didn’t know if he had the strength to outlast them.

He was out of cards and had no Ace in the hole to play. He was out of tricks. Out of excuses. Out of reasons. Out of lies he could tell himself. It had all been a mistake. One big, giant, colossal, life-wrecking mistake.

That dream had failed. Turned into a nightmare. Just like every other time he had tried. He knew he was broken. Damaged. Worthless. Untrustworthy. Unreliable. A pain in the ass. That was all a Crocker was good for after all.

There was nowhere else he could hide.

Nowhere he could go to escape the demon inside.

Nowhere that the voices couldn’t reach him.

Nowhere that fate could not find him.

Every time he slowed down things fell apart. People got hurt. People died. People left. It had happened so many times before and now it had happened again. Everything was gone, over, and falling apart.

He had messed up one time too many.

He had made mistakes one time too many.

He had said the wrong thing one time too many.

He had not done enough one time too many.

He had been himself one time too many.

And now everything was gone. He was gone. It was all gone, in the blink of an eye.

Now he was sitting on his boat. Far from the place he had been calling home for years now. Discarding the last shred of his strength. His hope. His dreams. His life. His heart.

Staring at the piece of paper that lay on the table in front of him for the hundredth time he cursed the name scrawled on the bottom of the page. He cursed himself for letting himself get hurt. For letting his guard down. For thinking with his heart instead of his head. Crumpling up the paper he dropped it onto the table and emptied the bottle in his hand.

It was better to forget.

It was better to move on.

It was better to not remember.

It was better to not hope. To not dream. To not try.

Staggering to his feet, ignoring the half-filled can spilling onto the table, staggering back down the hall, the darkness won over as he collapsed into the bed. The same bed that once felt warm and inviting and comforting was now cold and empty and terrifying.

Surrendering to the numbing blackness of sleep the voices continued to haunt and tease as the memories replayed over and over in his dreams.

And on the table, that handwritten note lay in the puddle as it spread across the table. Letters and words blurred into obscurity until only the first line was still discernable:

_Duke, there is no easy way to say this but…_

And the hastily scrawled name at the very bottom- _Nathan Wuornos_


End file.
